Eel

"O ay, you're like the fisher-folk, the men who hunt for eels, Who when the mere is still and clear catch nothing for their creels, But when they rout the mud about and stir it up and down, 'Tis then they do; and so do you, when you perturb the town."

"Strange the Formation of the Eely Race, That know no Sex, yet love the close Embrace. Their folded Lengths they round each other twine, Twist am’rous Knots, and slimy Bodies joyn; Till the close Strife brings off a frothy Juice, The Seed that must the wriggling Kind produce. Regardless they their future Offspring leave, But porous Sands the spumy Drops receive. That genial Bed impregnates all the Heap, And little Eelets soon begin to creep. Half-Fish, Half-Slime they try their doubtful strength, And slowly trail along their wormy Length. What great Effects from slender Causes flow! Congers their Bulk to these Productions owe: The Forms which from the frothy Drop began, Stretch out immense, and eddy all the Main."

"My wit is also slipir as an eel."

"Slipper in sliding as is an eelës taile,"

"A Lustie wench as nimble as an Eele, Would give a Gallant leave to kisse and feele,"

"Hey Willie Winkie, the wean’s in a creel, Wamblin’ aff a bodie’s knee like a verra eel,"

"Where the quick dipper forages In elver-peopled crevices,"